


rising in the light

by distractionpie



Series: stay the night [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Breakfast, Hank and Gavin are partners, M/M, Morning After, Secret Relationship, Single Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: Waking up alone isn't anything new for Hank. What he finds afterwards though, takes him into thoroughly unexplored territory.





	rising in the light

The bed is cold when Hank wakes up.

He’s used to that by now.

Some nights he goes to bed alone and that’s fine, but even when he gets to fall asleep with the comforting warmth of another body beside him, Gavin always leaves. Hank’s not sure when, though him escaping as soon as Hank falls asleep seems far more likely than him simply being an early riser. That’s just how Gavin is.

It’s been harder to grow tolerant of the way he wakes up uncomfortable, back aching from twisting around the empty space that Gavin had occupied when he’d fallen asleep. Hank can put up with him running out every morning, but would it kill him to shove a pillow or two into the space he leaves behind?

He stretches, rubs the sleep from his eyes and scans the room. As usual there’s no sign that Gavin was ever there beyond the fact sheets are more creased than they would have been if the bed had only ever held a single occupant. Sometimes Hank wishes that Gavin would leave something behind, give him an excuse to broach the topic of Gavin’s exits in a way that wouldn’t seem too much like pushing for something Gavin has made clear he doesn’t want, but Gavin seems to have an infuriating gift for finding all of his things and getting away clean in the dark without Hank ever being woken by his efforts.

Pushing thoughts of Gavin away as hopeless and irrelevant, he leaves his room and heads down the hall, forcing his focus onto the steps of his morning routine, the one he’s worked hard at getting into so that Cole will always arrive at school in good time even though punctuality has never been Hank’s forte.

He opens Cole’s door, ready to wake him.

But Cole’s not in his bed.

Hank frowns.

It’s not a reason to panic, he reminds himself. Just because Cole so very rarely wakes before he does, doesn’t mean today isn’t one of those exceptional days where he gets himself out of bed and goes to watch cartoons.

Except that Hank can’t hear any hint of sound from the TV.

Pushing back the small part of his mind that leaps to catastrophes, he heads down hall, relieved by the sight of a lamp on and the outline of somebody slumped against his couch. But it only takes him a moment to realise that somebody is far too tall to be Cole.

Sumo is still sleeping soundly in his bed though and, despite appearances, Hank knows that when an unfamiliar smelling person comes into the house the dog does make a fuss.

He moves to face the couch and takes in the sight before him.

Gavin slumped against the arm of the chair, fully dressed and neck cricked at an uncomfortable looking angle; and Cole, pyjama clad and with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a pile of screwed up kitchen towels on the couch cushion beside him, curled up against Gavin’s side.

His breath catches.

He’s only seen Gavin sleeping once before, after the first night they spent together when they’d both slept late, and that moment had been brief so Hank takes it in now. It softens Gavin, the difference peace of slumber makes revealing just how tense he is in his waking hours, his default scowl giving away to a relaxed look that takes years off his face. He’s wearing jeans and the angle of his neck has Hank wincing in sympathy, but despite that he looks comfortable and, with Cole at his side, domestic in a way that Hank has never allowed himself to envisage Gavin.

Hank starts to step back, needs a moment to think how he’s going to approach this, but then Cole yawns, routine clearly so ingrained that if Hank doesn’t wake him at the usual time his body does so automatically.

Cole has always been a bit of zombie in the mornings, worse even than Hank usually which is why he has to be to be so careful about their routine, and he rolls off the couch, stumbling on the blanket, rubbing his eyes sleepily before he opens them, freezing when he sees Hank. “Oh, uh, morning dad?”

Hank smiles at his sheepishness. “What are you doing on the couch?” he says.

Cole ducks his head, guilt written over his face so plainly that it takes all of Hank’s years of parenting experience not to laugh.

“That book?” Hank guesses, because he’d warned Cole thoroughly but he hadn’t taken the book away because there were some lessons that needed learning through experience.

Cole nodded. “It wasn’t... I wasn’t planning on staying up, it wasn’t that bad. I was just going to see Sumo for a bit and then go back to bed, but then Detective Reed was in the hallway and we talked about some stuff and I guess I fell asleep on the couch.”

Cole doesn’t seem to find it significant that Gavin was in their hallway late at night, which is a relief, because Hank doesn’t know what he’d say. A lie would be easy, but that’s not the sort of parent he wants to be to Cole. The truth wouldn’t be so much harder, Cole is an easy-going kid and they’ve spoken once or twice in vague terms about the possibility of Hank having a relationship and Cole has always seemed okay with it; except for the fact that Gavin might not be pleased with the disclosure. When they’d first got together Hank had planned to ease Gavin into dealing with the realities of dating a single parent slowly, give him time to adjust to the fact that if he wanted to be part of Hank’s personal life then Cole was part of the bargain, but instead they’ve overslept that first morning, and, though Hank had managed to avoid any awkward, unplanned meetings between the two of them, it had clearly forced Gavin to confront the reality of Cole and he’d been distant for days afterward.

It had been such a relief when he’d accepted Hank’s invite over, pizza and a late-night movie, and when he’d still been willing to let Hank take him to bed. He’d thought that perhaps things hadn’t been fucked up as badly as he’d feared, that they could carry on exploring the early stages of their relationship and work on building up to the point where Gavin and Cole could meet properly.

When he woke up the next morning, Gavin had vanished without a trace.

Hank had thought about letting things between them die then. Cole was a vital part of Hank’s life and if Gavin was so utterly unprepared to deal with it that he’d sneak out under the cover of darkness to avoid the risk of an unexpected meeting with Cole then their relationship was going nowhere.

But he’d never been able to do it.

Not when every time he was faced with Gavin he saw Gavin’s sly smile and the warmth in his eyes and got too swept up in the man who lay in his arms at night to remember the way the cold light of day always felt the next morning.

“You talked to Gavin, huh?” Hank asks, not sure how he feels about his son’s first proper conversation with his partner happening while he was sleeping, oblivious, in another room. “What about?”

A shrug. “Uh... my book, Amaya from school, cousin Amy’s wedding,” Cole lists slowly. “Just stuff.”

Hank nods. It wasn’t that he was concerned exactly, but Gavin’s an only child and Hank has never seen him around kids, but it sounds like he managed pretty well. He probably cussed, it’s hard to imaging Gavin’s speech not being peppered with foul language, but since Hank has slipped up in front of Cole more than a few times himself he’s not gonna get hung up about it.

Still, it’s strange to think of Gavin sticking around to talk to Cole, distract him from his fears by the sound of it, when Hank has always suspected Gavin to be the type to give children the brush off.

Instead he’s on Hank’s couch, having apparently stayed with Cole long enough for both of them fall asleep.

“Sounds fun kiddo. But,” Hank sighs, “I should wake him up.”

Cole frowns. “Should you?”

Hank raises his eyebrows.

“It’s just he seemed tired,” Cole says, strangely serious. “I mean, I know it was night-time but... he has tired eyes. And he didn’t wake up even when I accidentally kicked him when I was getting off the couch.”

“Well, he works hard,” Hank offers, but it sounds feeble even to him. He’s worried himself more than once, about the way Gavin seems to teeter on the edge of burnout. It bothers him, coming home to Cole after work only to arrive the next morning and find all the grunt work he’d been putting off for their cases has already been done by his partner because, while he was enjoying a pleasant evening at home, Gavin was at the precinct clocking hours of overtime like the job is the only thing he has in his life. Sometimes Hank invited Gavin over even when he didn’t really have the energy to hook up, just because it was the only way he could think of to make sure that Gavin was getting at least a little time away from his desk and doing something relaxing.

If anybody ought to sleep in, it’s Gavin, but he’ll need to get home. Hank’s never been to Gavin’s apartment, that would mean getting a sitter for Cole and explanations he wouldn’t know how to give, not when Gavin seems unwilling to commit to more than hours at a time, but he knows Gavin doesn’t live nearby and to get home, get breakfast and showered, and back to work on time -- well, he’s gonna be cutting it fine at best already.

Oh, fuck it.

Rummaging through the cupboards, Hank finds a bag of chocolate chips and a bottle of shake and pour pancake mix. It’s not the subtlest of moves, Cole is going to notice something is up because normally chocolate chip pancakes are a breakfast exclusively for special occasions, but if he wants to lure Gavin into staying for breakfast Hank is gonna have to pull out all the stops and Gavin has a sweet tooth.

While he’s cooking Cole departs to get himself ready for school and Hank keeps an ear out so he immediately recognises when Gavin wakes by the sleepy groan from the sofa.

Leaping on him the moment he gets up seems like a terrible idea, Hank hasn’t had the chance to experience Gavin right after waking other than a few moments on that one fateful morning but he’s fairly sure there’s nobody in the world who doesn’t like at least a few minutes to process -- all the more so since Gavin isn’t waking in the security of his own bed.

He stands, back to Hank, and stretches briefly before his shoulders curl down and in, the defensiveness of his posture making Hank’s gut churn. He’s never understood how Gavin can be so cocksure strutting into drug dens or facing armed murderers but something about being in Hank’s house so blatantly making him tense.

Gavin turns, seems startled to see Hank in the kitchen, startled in way that makes Hank think Gavin had every intention of following his usual pattern of slipping out without a goodbye and now it’s visible, the way Gavin clearly runs through things to say and then discards them.

“S-- I’m--” he jerks his head awkwardly towards the front door and blurts out, “See you at work,” in a tone that Hank knows well enough to recognise that’s not what Gavin wants to say but he has no idea what is.

The sight of him is such a strange combination, there’s a guarded stiffness to the hunch of his shoulders and his eyes are darting nervously, but he’s still sleep-rumpled and Hank can’t look at him without remembering the peaceful way he’d looked on the couch. His last memory of Gavin so at ease was tainted by the way it had ended with Hank frantically rushing to keep him from being confronted with Cole first thing in the morning and the days of distance afterwards. Hank doesn’t want this memory ruined in the same way.

“I’m making pancakes,” he says, then feels a bit stupid for stating the obvious and yet not being able to come right out and invite Gavin to breakfast.

“Good for you,” Gavin says tersely, still edging towards the door. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Your car is here,” Hank points out. “And you’re already late. Wait and drive me in and we’ll just tell Fowler that mine’s dead and I got you to swing around for me which made you late, he’ll let it slide.”

Gavin frowns and honestly it is a pretty weak excuse, especially to give to somebody with the deductive abilities of a police captain but Hank is fairly sure he’ll get away with it. He knows he’s lucky with how much slack Fowler cuts him as a single parent and how much leeway his past successes have earned him -- it shouldn’t be too hard to stretch that to cover his partner.

Although, Gavin wearing yesterday’s clothes might be a bit of an issue.

“This way you’ll have time to grab a shower and change,” he points out, whereas there’s no way Gavin isn’t going to be time pressed if he tries to get all the way home and then back to the precinct. “You can borrow one of my shirts.” They’ll all be big on Gavin, but underneath a jacket that shouldn’t be too obvious.

“Do you have any that aren’t designed to cause eye bleeding?” Gavin remarks, which isn’t a no.

Hank grabs the bag of chocolate chips, noting the way Gavin’s eyes follow his hand as he tips them into the mix.

“You’re a detective, I’m sure you can find something,” he says, letting a note of teasing slip into his voice. He wants Gavin to stay, but that Gavin’s here at all is already more than he expected to have and he’s all too aware that if he pushes too hard Gavin will flee again.

“Well, your dress sense is a crime,” Gavin says, lips twisting into a smirk that everybody else calls mean but just makes Hank want to kiss him.

There’s a joke in Hank’s mind about fashion police and Gavin arresting him, but he can’t quite find the words and every second Gavin spends waiting around is a second in which he might decide he’d rather walk away.

“Bathroom’s on the right,” he reminds Gavin, “And... uh, well you know where my bedroom is. Try the drawers not the wardrobe, that’s where all my old stuff is, it might fit you better.” Plus, it’s stuff Hank hadn’t worn in years which means Gavin will be able to worry less about their co-workers clueing in than if he was in a shirt easily identifiable as Hank’s.

“Right,” Gavin mutters, “Okay, then, I’m just gonna--” Another uncomfortable jerk of his head, this one causing his neck to click audibly in a way that’s pretty fucking gross but doesn’t seem to bother him, and then Gavin is gone but for once it’s deeper into the house instead of bailing right out the door.

Hank focusing on prepping breakfast after that, this morning has thrown him into unexpected waters but he’s still got to get Cole through his morning routine and then himself and Gavin to work and that means not letting mind wander and burning breakfast.

Cole returns at the smell of frying pancakes, Gavin following a few minutes later with shower-damp hair and an uneasy expression.

“Two minutes,” Hank says, waving Gavin over to the table. “Cole-”

“Lay the table,” Cole chirps, already tugging open the cutlery drawer. “I know.”

God, early morning sass already. Hank’s dreading Cole’s teenage years as he flips the pancakes one by one onto plates then dumps the pan into the sink to deal with later.

He grabs two plates, the motion as familiar as having a third person at breakfast is strange, and turns.

Then Hank pauses, soaking in the sight of Gavin sitting at his table waiting for breakfast Hank cooked, wearing one of Hank’s less garish shirts, and listening to Cole’s chatter with a bemused but not unfriendly look on his face.

“C’mon dad,” Cole whines, turning his way. “Pancakes aren’t for standing there looking at.”

“Yeah, Hank,” Gavin says, with a hint of the same demanding tone. “Your kid’s been giving me the lowdown on your pancake skills. Gotta know if you can deliver.”

Hank rolls his eyes and approaches the table, setting out Cole’s plate and his own before going back to the counter for Gavin’s. As he’s laying it down, he leans in a little more than he needs to and whispers lowly, “You know exactly how much I deliver,” and his daring is rewarded with a hint of a blush in Gavin’s cheeks as he shoots a scandalised glance his Cole’s direction that Hank can’t help but laugh at as he takes his own seat.

He watches as Cole pours a splash of syrup onto his pancakes, making sure he doesn’t overdo it and then end up complaining that his breakfast is too sticky, then as Cole politely offers to syrup to Gavin who accepts and coats his own stack in a rather more liberal amount.

The tension Hank feels as Gavin stabs his first forkful is absurd given that Gavin’s reaction won’t be reflecting Hank’s culinary skills so much as his choice of instant mix but that doesn’t stop him awaiting Gavin’s judgement.

The fork reaches his lips as he takes the mouthful and when he sets the fork back down there’s a glistening smudge of syrup on the bow of his lips that Hank would kiss away if Cole weren’t present. It’s almost enough to distract from the tension of waiting as Gavin chews, hums, and swallows.

“Not bad, Anderson,” he concludes, cutting himself some more with a haste that belies his nonchalance. “Might have to get you to make me breakfast more often.” Gavin’s eyes widen a moment later, that’s he shocked by his own words couldn’t be more obvious, but Hank is already leaping on the slip.

“Whenever you want.”

Maybe it’s too much, too fast. One thoughtless remark doesn’t mean that Gavin will stay, but this is the closest Hank has had to an opportunity for more since the very first time he asked Gavin to come home with him and he’s not going to waste it.

Gavin freezes, fork halfway to his open mouth, and for a moment Hank thinks he’s made an error, that Gavin is about to bolt again.

“Do you really know how to ride a motorbike, Gavin?” Cole interjects and Gavin looks at him with those deer in the headlamps eyes for a few long moments before he shoves the forkful of pancakes in his mouth.

“I... yeah...” Gavin says, after he’s swallowed, “Seemed cool when I was eighteen. But I sold it and bought a car after I realised that even global warming wasn’t gonna fix Detroit weather.”

Cole laughs and as he starts chattering about some cartoon character that turns into a motorbike, Gavin’s syrup smeared lips curl up into an uncertain smile.

Hank could get used to mornings like this.

 


End file.
